


its about the stars

by LittleDragonPrince



Series: love is a tower where all of us can live [3]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 18:34:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15668907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDragonPrince/pseuds/LittleDragonPrince
Summary: “I’m generating a birth chart for you!” he says, like it’s obvious, like Gluttony should have guessed that from the beginning, “I did this for Wrath, and Envy, and I made my own and printed it out to give to them. It’s important so I know who to like… trust most on this team, y’know?”“First off,” Gluttony growls, and leans forward onto his knees to loom into Pride’s personal space a bit, an implicit threat turning explicit. “We’re not on a team. It’s just one job."xxxgluttony and prides first meeting goes as well as you might imagine it going.





	its about the stars

**Author's Note:**

> IF I'M POSTING ONE OF THE SDS FICLETS I WRITE I MIGHT AS WELL POST ALL OF 'EM SO EVEN THOUGH THIS IS RLLY SHORT IM POSTING IT FOR POSTERITY
> 
> once again if u arent in the discord why did u click on this. click off. ty

It’s just one job.

This is what Jasper - or Gluttony, that was the stupid name they’d all chosen for him now,  _ Gluttony _ \- keeps telling himself to get through it. Just one job, and then he can go back to taking his own contracts, independently. The amount Wrath is offering is twice what he needs to pay back a favor he owes the Skulls, and the mark isn’t a tricky one to take out, so the frustration of dealing with other people is worth it.

“Oh! You’re the new guy, right? Wrath didn’t tell me you were so handsome.”

Probably worth it.

“New guy implies I’m staying,” he settles on saying, through gritted teeth, “I’m just here for one job.” When none of what he says seems to have deterred the man in front of him - standing at about six feet, weighing about ninety pounds soaking wet, dressed in a crop top and high waisted shorts and beaming at Gluttony like they’re already best friends - he adds, coldly, bluntly, “Leave me the fuck alone.”

“I’m Pride,” the man says, as if he hadn’t heard a single word out of Gluttony’s mouth, “And your name’s Gluttony?”

It was a question, one he didn’t want to answer, but this was a  _ job, _ and so  _ some _ degree of professionalism was required. Maybe if he played along a little bit this idiot - Pride - would be satiated and leave. “That’s the codename you’ve all given me for this  _ one job _ , yes.”

“That’s a fun one. Lust woulda been  _ more _ fun, as a name, but,” Pride shrugs, and takes a seat on the couch across from Gluttony, who had situated himself comfortably  _ alone _ on a futon in the crew’s hideout prior to this bullshit, “Gluttony’s good! Glad you chose a good one, at least.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” is all Gluttony can think to say in response, because  _ honestly _ . He’d never met someone before who could say so many words with so little substance behind them.

The insult doesn’t deflate Pride at all - he just fishes into the back pocket of his far-too-short shorts and pulls out a cellphone, which he instantly begins noisily typing on with his manicured nails. For a few seconds, he says nothing, and Gluttony starts to think he’s homefree, the conversation is over, when Pride says - apropos of nothing - “When’s your birthday?”

“Why - why do you want to know that.” It’s not a question; Gluttony makes sure to keep his voice entirely flat in a last ditch effort to indicate his growing anger.

Predictably, Pride is unfazed. “I’m generating a birth chart for you!” he says, like it’s obvious, like Gluttony should have guessed that from the beginning, “I did this for Wrath, and Envy, and I made my own and printed it out to give to them. It’s important so I know who to like… trust most on this team, y’know?”

“First off,” Gluttony growls, and leans forward onto his knees to loom into Pride’s personal space a bit, an implicit threat turning explicit. He doesn’t even bother to stifle the joy he feels upon seeing the smile on Pride’s face waver, at  _ long last, _ flinching backwards, “We’re not  _ on _ a team.  _ It’s just one job. _ Second off, my birthday isn’t any of your business.”

There’s a beat, wherein Pride’s eyes flicker around the room anxiously, as if searching for something to help him out of the hole he’s dug for himself by engaging with Gluttony - finding nothing, he looks Gluttony in the face again and grins, though his brows remained pinched together in worry. “Either way, this is  _ vital _ for us getting along! This isn’t about  _ me _ , it’s about the  _ stars _ .”

Gluttony has no interest in getting along, though he doesn’t say it - not because he cares about Pride’s feelings,  _ God _ no, but because that clearly isn’t going to get him to fuck off, and _that’s_ what really matters.

“October.”

“...Whaaaaat day of October?”

Gluttony deliberately says nothing, keeps his gaze stony and distant as Pride taps his nails against his phone case impatiently.

“...Okay, I’m just gonna put in Halloween, because you’re kind of a scary person - no offense.”

_ Dammit, _ Gluttony thinks, and he can feel his shoulders physically deflate as the plan to just be quiet and vague fails; Pride types something out on his phone, quickly and cheerfully, and Gluttony pretends he isn’t a little bit happy about being called scary, because it wasn’t a compliment, Gluttony wouldn’t accept a compliment either way. There’s no reason to feel self-satisfied right now, the only thing he should be feeling is frustration. He  _ does _ feel frustration.

(Not as much as he should be feeling, though. Even if he would never admit to that.)

“What about birth year? How old are you?”

Changing tacts yet again, Gluttony deadpans, “I’m one thousand years old.”

There’s a beat, as Pride seems to wait for Gluttony to tell him the truth and stop joking around. When he doesn’t say anything - doesn’t move a muscle even, just remains hunched over and blank-faced - Pride gives a flirty giggle and taps away at the screen some more. “Well, you don’t look a day over thirty!” he says, “So that’s what I’m putting in, mkay?”

Gluttony’s first thought at that is  _ I’m going to kill this man _ .  His second thought is  _ That’s a close guess, _ and he tries to feel purely annoyed instead of a little impressed as he thinks it.

“Now,  _ where _ were you born?” Pride asks, chipper as ever, and crosses one long leg over the other with a type of nonchalance Gluttony doesn’t think he’s ever felt in his life.

“I was created in the center of a black hole, far away from this galaxy,” is his reply, because it’s the first thing to come to mind that isn’t the truth, and he’s practically given up at this point, resigned to hoping Pride gets the hint and backs off of his own volition - though he knows, in his heart, that’s not likely.

Pride barely misses a beat this time, just blinks and begins to tap into his phone again. A pout appears on his face, the first time the whole conversation he’s dropped the smile - though the sad expression he wears now is just as shallow and cloying somehow - and he looks up at Gluttony with what appears to be sincere confusion. “The website doesn’t recognize that as a valid location,” he says, and he  _ sounds _ sincere, too, albeit over-the-top, like an actor trying too hard to sell it as real emotion, “I’m sorry. Was the black hole at least, like… close to something on earth?”

Despite himself, Gluttony snorts out a little laugh. He’s not amused, but he’s… something close to it. Nobody had ever responded to him like  _ that _ , rolling with the punches so quickly and playing along - normally they just stuttered out a laugh, unable to tell if he was joking, and then fled the uncomfortable conversation. Pride doesn’t look uncomfortable at all, though, tongue poking out of his lips a little bit as he pokes at something on his screen.

Maybe that’s why he says, “Just put in Clearwater City,” instead of remaining silent like he’d planned to.

“Oh! So this is your hometown!” Pride says, the big beaming expression back in place.

“Yeah,” Gluttony says, because it’s not. Pride doesn’t know that Gluttony’s lying - and if he did know, he probably wouldn’t care - and goes back to typing rapidly on his phone. A few more seconds pass in silence, which Gluttony soaks up gratefully, before Pride gasps out loud, eyes blown wide and smile stretched wider _. _

“You’re a Scorpio, I shoulda known,” he titters, and wiggles in his seat, and then he stands up so suddenly Gluttony actually winces backwards, when had he leaned forward? “Distrusting, secretive,  _ violent. _ ” He looks around his phone at Gluttony at this, smirking - it makes Gluttony’s blood boil, just a little bit, being  _ literally  _ looked down upon by someone like Pride, “Most mercenaries are probably Scorpios, y’know. And a Leo moon, too! Man, it’s so obvious now.”

Any fondness Gluttony may have held for Pride withers and dies at this. The notion that someone might know  _ anything _ about him, about who he is and the things he’s done and  _ why _ he’s done them, is nauseating, infuriating - if Pride wasn’t his colleague, Gluttony would kill him.

(Hell, he might kill him anyhow, after this is all said and done.)

“The most important thing about a Scorpio, though?” says Pride, oblivious to the anguish he’s putting Gluttony through with every stupid, mawkish word, “They’re very loyal friends.”

With that, Pride pockets his phone and struts away towards the nearest hallway, footsteps quick and determined - Gluttony realizes, belatedly, that Pride  _ knows _ he’s pissed off and is making his escape - but before he can even decide to call something out after the other man, Pride beats him to it.

“Welcome to the team, sweetie!”

“I’m  _ not--” _ a door slams shut that Gluttony can’t see, cutting him off; he settles for groaning lowly in the back of his throat and burrowing his face in his hands. He feels drained already, on day  _ one _ of this stupid contract. “It’s just one job,” he reassures himself under his breath, “It’s just one job.”

(It isn’t just one job.)


End file.
